Tainted Innocence
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: FORMERLY A New Enemy A new predator hunts the woods surrounding Rivendell, but when it has the missfortune of choosing a certain Prince of Mirkwood for his prey, he had better watch out. Mature for gore, unpleasentries, Instance of rape and Implied rape
1. Discovery

**Title: **Tainted Innocence

**Author: **IndigoStarNight

**Feedback: **Yes please

**Summary:** A new predator hunts the woods surrounding Rivendell, but when it has the missfortune of choosing a certain Prince of Mirkwood for his prey, he had better watch out. Mature for gore, unpleasentries, Instance of rape and Implied rape

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Lord of the Rings or the characters.

**Spoilers: **Nope

**Rating: **R for instance of rape, implied rape, and gore

**Warnings: **Instance of rape, implied rape, and gore

**Author's Note #1: **So, when I originally wrote this story, it was NOT intended to be slash, however, far be it for me to tell you, the reader, that your interpretation of my work is wrong. So, if you, the reader, so choose to read this story with the mind that it is slash, be my guest. However, if it were written as slash, that would be rather painfully obvious.

**Author's Note #2: **Hey all, this story was posted on the other account I used to be using before I merged the two accounts, so I deleted it and am reposting it here. Formerly named "A New Enemy", but I decided that was dumb so I changed it. So, please review!

**Enjoy!**

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**Discovery**

Aragorn smiled happily up at the setting sun. It was early evening and there was just the faintest tint of pink about the sky. The ranger walked on, he had three hours yet until the sun set completely, but he was in no hurry and he would easily reach his father's home by then.

He breathed deeply of the clean cool autumn air. It was his favorite time of the year, calm and peaceful as the plants and animals prepared for their long sleep through the winter. A cool breeze ruffled his long dark hair as he strode under the arching tree branches.

Suddenly the serene calm was shattered by a cry. Aragorn jumped, his sword half drawn as he ran toward the noise. The closer he got the better he could hear the soft sounds of distress, and the sounds of pleasure. The ranger did not know what made the sounds but he was certain that at least one of the parties involved was an elf, and that made his heart clench as he had many friends among the first born.

He ran full out, so intent upon following the sounds that he did not see the large fallen branch in his path. He tripped and went sprawling to the ground. In a flash he jumped to his feet again, cursing his carelessness and hoping that the noise had not alerted his query of his presence. He went forward more cautiously now, stealthily slipping from one to tree to the next.

He broke into a small break in the trees and looked about wildly for the sounds had stopped and he had no idea in which direction to go. After a minute or two of peering into the failing light Aragorn spied a lone figure leaning against a tree several yards to his right. He stepped forward slowly, his nerves battling with his caution. On one hand he had a strong suspicion as to whom the curtain of blonde hair belonged to, but on the other whatever had attacked his friend could be laying in wait to ambush him.

At a distance the elf appeared to be covered in tatters of a dark red cloth, but as Aragorn edged closer he saw to his dismay that it was not cloth, but slowly drying blood that covered his friend's otherwise naked body.

At last the ranger reached the distressed elf and took one last cautious glance around to be sure that no one, or nothing, was hiding in the surrounding trees, and immediately dropped to his knees next to his friend.

"Legolas," he breathed, anxiously checking for a pulse. For one heart stopping minute he could not find one, but then at last there it was, faint and over rapid, but still beating. The ranger took his friend's head in his hands, lifting it to examine his face. He swallowed a painful lump in his throat as he surveyed the split lip and swollen eye on Legolas' unnaturally pale face.

Legolas moaned and stirred, flinching away from Aragorn's touch.

"Shh, mellon-nin," Aragorn whispered trying to sooth the elf, "Be at peace." Legolas struggled to open his eyes.

"E…Es…. Estel?" He whispered dimly.

"Yes, yes I am here," Aragorn quickly cut the bonds around his friend's wrists that bound him to the tree and cradled the injured elf in his arms. Legolas shivered violently as Aragorn wrapped his cloak around the elf's thin frame. The prince of Mirkwood tried to say something else but instead he slipped away back into unconsciousness.

Aragorn spread his cloak on the ground and lay his friend on it to examine his wounds. The elf was bruised all over and had several large, deep lacerations on his chest and arms, and what felt like two broken ribs.

Barely noticing the tears flowing freely down his face, Aragorn searched desperately through his small bag of medicinal herbs he always carried with him for something to help Legolas. He found a few leaves of painkilling herbs but nothing else of use.

"Legolas," he said softly, trying to coax his friend into opening his mouth, "Eat these." The elf did not move and Aragorn had to force his mouth open and crush the leaves into it, thankfully Legolas swallowed on reflex.

Not having enough bandages for his Legolas' many wounds Aragorn glanced about hoping to find his friend's clothes. He found them laying in the loam a few feet away but they were soiled and torn to shreds, completely useless. With a sigh the ranger was forced to give up all hope of binding Legolas' wounds.

The only thing he could do for his friend was wrap his cloak tighter around the elf's pale trembling body and bare him toward Rivendell, where Elrond would be able to heal him.

_Cold…it was…so cold…what had happened? He could not remember, no, he did not _want _to remember. He saw flashes…bits of memories…No…no please make it stop. He felt hands…hot hands, burning his skin…he tried to pull away…No! His mind screamed, No please! Wasn't it done with him yet? He tried to draw away, curl in on himself…all he wanted was for it to stop. Why…wouldn't…it stop?_

It was well after night had fallen when Legolas began to stir. Aragorn nearly dropped him in surprise, having trudged in a daze like state for the past several hours, his only focus on getting his friend home as soon as possible.

"No…No please…. make it…. stop!" Legolas cried, struggling against Aragorn's gentle hold on him. Aragorn halted and carefully lay his friend down on the soft loam of leaves.

"Legolas?" He asked as he hurriedly checked his friend's pulse.

"No…. No!" the elf screamed, trying to pull away from him, shaking all over.

"Legolas, be a peace!" Aragorn cried desperately, hating seeing his friend in pain. The ranger felt his forehead, and was pained to find that the elf was delirious with fever.

"We must get you to my father," said Aragorn firmly as he scooped Legolas into his arms again, trying to ignore the elf's cries and pleas.

They were almost there…almost…just a few more steps. Aragorn could not think. He felt drops of blood hitting his boot; Legolas had lost too much. He had to go faster but his body would not obey him. There, he saw it, not far ahead, his father's house, Rivendell, the house of healing. It was not far, he could see it through a hazy cloud, cloud? When had the mist risen? He had not noticed.

He felt his legs trembling under him. _Just a little farther,_ he prayed, but again his body would not listen. Just feet from the door his knees buckled under him. Gently he lay Legolas down on the ground, hoping that perhaps without the extra weight, slight though it was, he would be able to make it. He climbed painfully to his feet again. One step…two…he collapsed, he could not make it.

"Ada!" He tried to yell, hoping to call some one, anyone out. His vision darkened, he fought, and lost, using his last conscious breath to once again call for his father, then everything went black.


	2. The Awakening

**So here's part two. Big thanks to my reviewers Emily and wolenczak2004. Please Review!**

**Enjoy!**

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**The Awakening**

Aragorn woke slowly, trying to make his muddled mind clear. He felt softness underneath him, yet he ached all over. Some one was pressing a cool damp cloth to his forehead.

_What happened?_ He wondered, trying to remember the circumstances that had led him to this position, this time. It came back to him bit by bit, being in the woods…hearing sounds… running… finding Legolas… Legolas! He sat up quickly, and cried out loudly in surprise at the sudden pain that flared up in his side.

"That was not wise," comment a light voice from beside the ranger as gentle hands pushed him back down onto the pillows.

"Elladan?" Aragorn's muddled brain still refused to operate properly.

"Aye little brother," said the elf kindly, "It seems you and young Legolas have gotten yourselves into trouble yet again."

"Where is he?" Asked the ranger wildly, ignoring his brother's slight.

"Be at peace, Estel," Elrohir, Elladan's twin, said calmly. With a little effort Aragorn was able to focus his eyes enough to see his brother sitting on the edge of a bed placed next to his own. On the other side of the bed Lord Elrond bent over the barely visible prone form of Legolas.

"How is he?" the young man's attempts to leave his bed and go to his friend were thwarted by the sharp pains in his side that made breathing, let alone moving, uncomfortable.

"He yet lives," was Elrond's noncommittal reply.

"What happened?" asked Elrohir, moving over to sit on the edge of his younger brother's bed next to Elladan. Aragorn told them the tale, though there was not much to tell.

"So you did not see what did this to him?" Elladan confirmed. Aragorn nodded.

"Orcs?" guessed Elrohir, but Aragorn shook his head.

"I do not think so," he told them, "The cuts are too precise, the knots on the rope too neat, and that leaves alone entirely the question of why? Why take him prisoner? Why not just kill him as they are wont to do?" No one had the answer, except perhaps Legolas who remained unconscious.

Once Aragorn was properly assured that his friend was at least stable, his awareness of his own pains heightened. He glanced down, and was surprised to find a heavy bandage wrapped around his side, though it explained the pain.

"If you did not fight anything, then pray tell how did you acquire that wound?" asked Elrond, as he turned to a near by basin of water to wash Legolas' blood from his hands.

Aragorn frowned, he did not remember noticing it before. "I suppose," he started slowly, embarrassed at his carelessness, "That I must have gotten it when I tripped trying to find him."

"That would explain the splinters I found," confirmed the older elf calmly, and Aragorn was glad that no one commented on his undignified fall, "Drink this," he handed his adoptive son a cup.

Aragorn smelled it cautiously. "What is in it?" he asked, having been tricked into drinking sleep inducing or painkilling herbs many times before by his father.

"You know full well what is in it," answered Elrond matter-of-factly, "And you will drink every drop." Aragorn made a face at his brothers, who returned it, sharing his feelings on drugs, but he drank it obediently, just like always.


	3. Painful Memories

**Hey all, so here's the next chapter. Finally we get… some answers. Yes, I know, you all love me oh so much with my informative-ness. Anyways, huge thanks to my wonderful reviewers emily, estelstheone, and StarLight9. Please review!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Painful Memories**

Several days later Aragorn sat awake in his bed. He sighed with boredom, but for once he did not ask to be allowed to leave the healing wing, as he wanted to be there when Legolas woke. Elladan and Elrohir came to visit him whenever they could but they were often called away by duties. Elrond of course was there much of the time, tending to Legolas and making sure that his son did not overly exert himself. For the moment however, the ranger was alone with his unconscious friend.

Slowly Aragorn swung his legs over the edge of the bed and eased himself to his feet. He had to grab the bedpost against the sudden flash of dizziness that threatened to over come him. Shaking it off he ventured forward toward Legolas' bed, knowing that his father would him kill him if he ever found out.

He just made it to the other bed before his legs collapsed under him and he sat down hard on the edge of it. Gently he felt his friend's pulse, it was faint, but steady and not overly rapid, a good sign. Spying a discarded bowl of water and rag near by Aragorn dipped the cloth in the water and applied it to Legolas' forehead, gently brushing away the cold sweat that had gathered there.

His friend moaned stirring in his sleep and the ranger tenderly stroked his cheek hoping to put him to ease. However his efforts were wasted as Legolas only struggled harder, his dreams taking a turn for the worse.

"Shh, Mellon-nin," whispered Aragorn.

"No… Please…" the distraught elf cried as he sat up right, forcing Aragorn to move back hurriedly so as not to be hit in the face.

Legolas sat shaking violently as his eyes searched the room wildly before finally settling on Aragorn. "What… ha... ppened?" he asked brokenly.

"We were hoping you could tell us that," said Elrond calmly as he entered the room. He gave Aragorn a 'We'll talk about you not being in bed later' look and bent over Legolas, checking his pulse and temperature.

"I…" Legolas faltered, his eyes flicking about nervously, searching for something that could not be seen. "I was… NO!" He shouted, shutting his eyes against the sudden barrage of memories that engulfed his mind.

Aragorn put a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but Legolas shuddered and pulled away his eyes still tightly closed.

"Please… Please no…" the elf begged, drawing in on himself, his arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked to and fro.

"Legolas," cried Aragorn, afraid and hurt that his friend had refused his comfort.

"We will not hurt you, penneth," soothed Elrond as he gently tried to uncurl the young elf.

"I. Know. You. Won't." he ground out through clenched teeth, but was unable to control his body's reaction. Elrond stood and walked to the table of herbs nearby, returning after only a few minutes.

"Drink this," he insisted calmly, lifting Legolas' chin and forcing it into his mouth. Immediately his body began to relax as Aragorn and Elrond coaxed him into lying back down. Soon Legolas had control of his body again.

"Legolas!" cried Elrohir, bounding in a several minutes later, Elladan not far behind. Legolas forced a small smile for them, though he still shook violently.

"Legolas," started Elrond, soothingly putting a hand on the younger elf's shoulder, "I need you to try and remember who, or what, did this to you, I need you to tell me what happened, everything." Legolas gazed at him with wide terrified eyes.

"Ada!" cried Aragorn, taking a protective stance over his friend, "You cannot ask that of him, not yet."

"I must my son," said Elrond calmly, "I cannot properly treat him if I do not."

Aragorn bit his lip but conceded. He knelt back down close to his friend. "Can you Legolas?" he asked quietly, caressing him, wishing with all his heart that he could just make it all untrue, "Can you tell us?"

Legolas looked at him, his wide trust-filled eyes locked onto Aragorn's, begging his friend for strength, which the ranger willingly tried to give him.

"I was… coming here," he began tremulously, "I was… way laid. It snuck up on me in my sleep… I could not fight it, it was too strong."

"What was it?" asked Elladan.

"An orc?" guessed Elrohir.

Legolas shook his head so vehemently that his entire body trembled. "Worse."

"What did it look like?" prodded Elrond gently.

"Horrible," the wounded elf closed his eyes, trying to hide from it, "It-it was the black color of… long dried blood, and it had these… these tribal markings of some kind painted all over it's body." Elrond exchanged a horrified glance with his two older sons.

"What? What is it?" demanded Aragorn, having caught the transaction.

"Sounds like…" started Elrohir. Elrond nodded.

"But I thought they all had…" began Elladan.

"So had I," said Elrond gravely, "It would seem we were wrong."

"Wrong? What about? What is it?" Aragorn demanded again, beginning to get angry.

"Reavers," breathed Elrohir so softly that Aragorn could not be certain that is what he had said.

"What are they?" he asked. Elladan began to speak but stop noticing Legolas' shudder and pulled Aragorn to the other side of the room so that no more painful memories would be brought forward in the elf's mind.

"Reavers? I have never heard of them," Aragorn continued in a whisper.

"That is not surprising as no one likes to speak of them," his brother informed him, "They are terrible creatures, predators. They roamed Middle Earth many thousands of years ago, way laying unfortunate travelers, and…" he trailed off.

"And…What?"

"Defiling them," Elladan finished delicately.

"Defiling…" Aragorn's eyes went wide as he realized what the elf meant. He looked sadly at the bed where Legolas lay, a new and deeper pain making his heart sink through the floor now that he fully understood what his friend had gone through. Slowly as if he were in a trance he crossed the room back to the bedside and gazed down at his once again unconscious friend.

"By the Valar," he whispered, stroking Legolas' pale cheek, "How could this happen to you?"


	4. Forgotten Memories

**Hey all, so here's chapter four. Big thanks to my reviewers emily, sigh, StarLight9, and Calenlass Greenleaf.**

**sigh: I have never heard of a movie called Firefly. I have heard of a show called that, but I have never seen it, so if there is something like my reavers there, I had no idea and was not intentionally plagerizing. I do appologize if I am.**

**Anyways, please review, and enjoy!**

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**Forgotten Memories**

It was late that night, or rather, early the next morning, nearly two Aragorn guessed. He sat awake in his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, brooding. He could not erase from his mind the terror that Legolas' face bore when he remembered what the reaver had done to him.

_Defile…_ the word continually chased itself around and around in his head, accompanied by the image of a brutish orc-like creature with blood dripping from it's fangs bearing down on a bound and helpless Legolas…

He put his head in his hands, rage welling up in his chest, threatening to consume him. He longed for nothing more than to feel the reaver's filthy neck snap between his own bare hands.

His mind was made up almost before he realized it and he was on his feet, only stopping for a moment to steady himself. He crossed the room to where his boots and weapons lay, scooping them in his arms he began to quietly open the door.

"No… Estel," moaned Legolas. Aragorn turned, letting go of the doorknob. Legolas was struggling to sit upright, and failing miserably, his eyes locked on the ranger.

"Hush," soothed Aragorn, dropping his things and going to his friend.

"Estel…" gasped the elf, weakly clasping Aragorn's wrist, "Please, do not leave… me." He lay back limply, his eyes closed in a grimace, still holding Aragorn's arm.

"I will not leave," he promised, gently removing Legolas' hand from his arm and gripping it in his own, all thoughts of going just then fleeing his mind, however thoughts of avenging his friend were only pushed back in his mind for the time being.

Aragorn did not leave his friend's bedside for the rest of the night. He knelt there, clasping the elf's hand, murmuring to him, trying to sooth his restless dreams, until he himself feel asleep with his head resting on the edge of the bed, Legolas' delicate hand still held in his own calloused one.

It was thus that Elladan and Elrohir found the two the next morning. Aragorn stirred and sat up when he heard them enter.

"Ada will be mad if he comes in here and finds you out of bed again," commented Elrohir lightly. Aragorn just made a face at him, still partially asleep.

"How long have you been like that?" asked Elladan.

The human shrugged, "A while," was his noncommittal reply.

"How fares Legolas?" asked Elrohir quietly as he moved over to gaze sadly down at his friend.

"He woke for a few moments last night," Aragorn answered, not really sure if Legolas had truly been aware of his surroundings or not, "But there is no real change."

"I can still barely believe it," whispered Elladan, his eyes wide in horror as he too gazed sadly at the younger elf.

"What has Legolas ever done to deserve such a fate?" asked Elrohir rhetorically.

"Did you…" Aragorn started, not sure how to phrase his question, "Have you two ever _seen_ a reaver?"

"Aye," answered Elladan gravely, "We were traveling with a small band of our people many millennia ago, a sentry disappeared on watch one night. As soon as we discovered him missing we searched the surrounding area, we found him…" Elladan trailed off, unable to finish the story.

"The reaver was… in the middle of it's work," picked up Elrohir, so quietly that he could barely be heard, "We killed the creature, but it was too late, our friend died before morning came."

Aragorn bowed his head. "I am only glad that I got there before Legolas met the same fate," the ranger said sadly.

"As are we," replied Elladan, placing a gentle hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"No…" moaned Legolas, stirring in his sleep, "No…No please…. please…. NO!" He began to scream, struggling against the sheets that lay over him.

"Legolas?" called Aragorn, leaning over his friend trying to wake him, but the wounded elf only fought harder crying out again.

"Get Ada, quick!" shouted the ranger over his friend's screams as he tried desperately to calm him and keep him from falling off the bed in his contortions. Elladan moved to help him hold Legolas down while Elrohir backed from the room and ran down the hall yelling for their father.

Within moments both had returned, Elrond looking slightly wild as his hair hung down about his shoulders and he still wore his nightclothes. Immediately seeing what was wrong Elrond ran to the herb table.

"Hold him still!" the healer cried, hurriedly mixed several herbs into a drink. Aragorn and Elladan renewed their efforts as Elrohir added his help as well.

"Sit him up right," commanded Elrond, moving to the bedside, cup in hand. His sons complied as best they could, Aragorn sitting on the bed holding Legolas tightly against his chest, using his own body to limit his friend's movements.

Slowly, bit-by-bit Elrond forced the drink down the prince's throat. It was not until the entire potion was gone that Legolas began to relax and fell back limply into Aragorn's protective arms. Reluctantly the ranger released his hold and lay the elf back down on the bed, moving back to his chair.

There was silence for many minutes as they all let their heart rates return to normal. However the peace was short lived as Legolas stirred again, moaning softly before opening his eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked groggily.

"Rivendell," answered Elrohir confused, Legolas had been awake only the day before knowing exactly where he was and what had happened.

"Where?" the elf asked again.

"Rivendell, mellon-nin, you are in Rivendell," repeated Aragorn, gently touching his friend's hand, worriedly trying to sooth him. Legolas jumped and pulled his hand from the human's grasp, staring blankly at him with fear rimmed eyes. Aragorn was hurt, never before had Legolas look at him with such fear, had drawn away from him with such mistrust.

"Where is that?" the younger elf asked blankly. He looked wildly around from one face to another, his eyesight swimming as panic crowded his senses. Elrond leaned forward and worriedly checked for any previously missed head wounds.

"Do you… you truly do not remember?" faltered Aragorn in trepidation, longing to comfort his friend but fearing being refused again.

Legolas turned to him again with a slightly accusatory look. "Who _are_ you?" he demanded, pulling even farther away, though he also attempted to draw back from Elrond on his other side, the effect being him curled up in on himself as much as possible into a tight ball.

These words startled and hurt the young man so much that he stood from the bed and began backing away, collapsing weakly into his brothers' arms who had been standing quietly to the side, not wanting to further distress their friend.

"Ada, what is wrong with him?" demanded Elrohir as he and Elladan tried to consol their younger brother.

Elrond did not answer right away, intent upon his examination. "Do you know your own name?" he asked the wounded elf slowly.

Legolas stopped, frowning for a moment, "I-I remember the word Legolas," he said slowly, "Though I do not know what it means."

"Yes, that is you name," answered Elrond, only slightly relieved, "You are Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood."

"Where is that?" Legolas' eyes wildly roved the room, terror and panic threatening to over take him as he fully realized that he was stuck in a strange place surround by strange people, unable to move from the bed, with no idea where or who he was.

"Estel, get the blue packet of herbs and mix it in the tea," ordered Elrond, seeing that Legolas was going into shock over the matter.

Aragorn was to overwhelmed to obey but Elladan moved from the ranger's side and followed his father's orders, handing him the cup of tea.

"Here, penneth," said Elrond gently handing Legolas the drink, "It will make you feel better." Legolas gazed at him mistrustingly, but slowly reached out a hand, part of his mind loudly rebelling against trusting the stranger.

"That's it," soothed the older elf, "Drink it all." Legolas slumped suddenly, unconscious before he had even removed the cup from his lips.

"What…what has happened to him, Ada?" asked Aragorn, hesitantly stepping forward to gaze down at his friend.

"I have seen this before," answered Elrond wearily, "When something terribly traumatic happens and ones mind simply cannot cope, it forgets, wipes the memory completely. Apparently past events have harmed our young friend's mind nearly to the point of breaking, forcing it to wipe itself completely."

"So he does not even know who he is?" asked Elrohir, though from Legolas' reaction the answer had seemed quite clear. Elrond shook his head.

"What do we do about it then?" asked Elladan, placing a gentle hand on his sleeping friend's shoulder, wishing he could do something, anything to help him.

"Pray," was Elrond's grave reply as a heavy gloom settled over the entire group.


	5. The Obstacle Of Memory

**Hey all. So here's chapter five. Huge thanks to my reviewers: estelstheone, ****wolenczak2004, StarLight9, emily, sam, and Calenlass Greenleaf. Yes, yes, poor Legolas (tears). Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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**The Obstacle of Memory**

Legolas slept much of the next three days away, still recovering from the severe lacerations that had been inflicted upon him. Elrond had warned his sons not to tell Legolas much of anything, about who they were, who he was, where he was or why, explaining that with luck and time he would remember on his own as he healed. They had agreed reluctantly.

One morning Aragorn entered his friend's room carrying a large tray of food, hoping to be able to make him eat as he had refused them for the most part thus far. He was slightly startled to see the elf already awake and staring blankly at the wall.

"Legolas?" asked Aragorn tentatively as he stepped forward toward his friend, "Do you're wounds bother you?"

Legolas turned dull empty eyes toward him. "No," he answered, his normally musical lilt completely gone, causing his voice to roughen to a harsh monotone, "Well, besides the fact that I have no idea how I got them."

Aragorn sighed and sat down next to his friend on the edge of the bed, leaving the tray on the bedside table. "Perhaps some things are better left forgotten," he replied wearily. Legolas gave him a calculating look.

"You know," he accused.

"You need to eat, Legolas," said Aragorn, forcefully changing the topic. He picked up the tray and gently placed it on Legolas' lap.

Legolas reached forward almost without thinking and picked up a strawberry pastry, beginning to eat it without argument. Aragorn smiled, having purposefully brought the pastries, knowing his friend had a weakness for them.

"We knew each other before…." _Before I lost my _memory is what Legolas didn't say, but he didn't have to, Aragorn knew what he meant, though he was unsure as to whether it was a question or a statement. Either way Aragorn did not know how to answer without breaking his promise to his father.

"Did we not?" the uncertainty and loss in the elf's eyes threatened to pierce Aragorn's heart and make him open up.

"We had met before," his answer was hesitant and noncommittal; unable to bare that fear in his friend's gaze any longer.

"Oh," was all Legolas said. He did not pick up another pastry, nor did he touch anything else, he stared blankly at the wall in front of him a slightly pained expression on his face.

"You are trying to remember," observed Aragorn, the elf closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "Are you having any luck?" the human asked, hardly daring to hope.

"No," Legolas replied sadly, "I-I get small flashes sometimes, trees and stars, and I remember hearing laughter, lots of it, but… nothing that makes any sense."

"Well that is something, is it not?" encouraged Aragorn.

"I suppose," replied the elf, turning down heartedly back to the wall.

Aragorn frowned for a moment, trying to think of a way to raise his friend's spirits, then he grinned, "I know what will make you feel better," he said getting up to retrieve a light cloak from the nearby wardrobe, though the day was only slightly cool and the elf would normally not feel anything at all his recent injuries would render it's services necessary.

Legolas looked at him questioningly.

"We are going for a walk," the human declared, helping him to sit up.

"Your father would not approve," Legolas said slowly, trying to mask the hope in his eyes. Aragorn smiled to himself, his intuition again serving him well; despite the fact that his friend had no idea where or who he was he would still long to be outside in the open air.

"That is exactly why we are not going to ask him first," Aragorn replied grinning wickedly. The elf gave him the slightest of smiles in return, and that made Aragorn happier than he had been in over a week, as it was the first even hint of joy he had seen on his friend's face in as much time.

Carefully Aragorn lead Legolas, who was still weak and slightly dizzy from blood loss, one arm firmly wrapped around his friend's waist, out of his room, down the thankfully deserted halls and out into the great expanse of gardens that surrounded Imladris.

Aragorn felt a great wave of peace and calm sweep over him and he was again forcefully reminded of how much he loved that time of year. Slowly he led Legolas down the shaded pathways lined with late blooming flowers and shrubs as red and gold leaves fell gently about their feet. The human was relieved to both feel and see the tension leaving his friend as they walked and breathed in the pure Rivendell air.

They spoke little as they went, the barrier of Legolas' lost memory firmly in their way. However there was not truly a need for words. As they passed under the clear sky and dappled shade Legolas was able to begin rebuilding the bonds between himself and Aragorn, to begin to trust again.

After some time Aragorn felt Legolas beginning to tire beside him, and he led the elf into a small comfortable clearing. Ignoring the two alabaster benches Legolas settled himself at the trunk of a large oak.

"I like this place," he said softly, breaking the silence, "it is a place of peace." Aragorn smiled at him as he sat down against another tree near the elf.

"You feel better?" the ranger asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Much," Legolas whispered, leaning his head back against the tree and closing his eyes. His lips parted in his first true smile since the whole ordeal had begun, and that managed to lift Aragorn's spirits more than even the most perfect of days ever could. The ranger also closed his eyes, imitating his elven friend's pose.

Legolas sighed with contentment, for content he was. It could not be said that he was at peace, nor that he was happy; it had been a lie when he told Aragorn that is wounds did not bother him, but they were less disturbing than his lost memory. However he was content to be able to relax under the trees on this sunny fall day, in the calming atmosphere of Rivendell. He toyed idly with the grass next to his side, running his supple hand over its smooth texture. Then he frowned as his hand found something cold and hard, something made out of steal.

Opening his eyes he picked it up to examine it further. It was a knife, a cold hard cruel knife; its edges were jagged and not overly sharp. The hilt was painted black with strange red markings and runes drawn all over it in a crude scrawl, and the blade had been stained the disconcerting brownish-red color of long dried blood that no one had bothered to wash off.

Legolas shuddered suddenly, almost dropping the knife, closing his eyes as the feel of the cruel steal brought forth disturbing images to his mind. He cried out, barely realizing it, as the pictures grew in intensity. Throwing himself forward onto his hands and knees he panted desperately, staring at the grass between his hands without really seeing it, the barrage of mental pictures threatening to tear his already fragile mind to shreds.

Aragorn was on his feet and at his friend's side in seconds upon hearing the elf's cries of distress, something not very often heard in Rivendell.

"Legolas? Legolas!" He yelled, putting one comforting hand on the prince's shoulder, while searching the desperately for the source of Legolas' pain. Ah, there, he found it, a long evil looking dagger buried point deep into the turf a mere three inches from the elf's left hand. Quickly the ranger grabbed the knife and stuffed it into his belt for further examination later, then tried to comfort Legolas in any way he could.

"Legolas? Legolas can you hear me?" Aragorn called, trying to ease his friend so that he was leaning back against his own chest. The elf's eyes had rolled into the back of his head and Aragorn feared him having a seizure or something of the kind, but he did not dare leave to fetch his father.

After what felt like hours, but was really only several minutes, Legolas' breathing began to return to normal as he leaned back weakly into Aragorn's arms, shaking so violently the ranger was hard put to keep a hold on him. Crooning nonsense in Legolas' ear Aragorn softly whipped the cold sweat from his friend's brow, waiting for his shivering to still.

Gently Aragorn coaxed Legolas to his feet and led him back to his room, deciding that they had had plenty enough air for one day. Laying the prince down on the bed, Aragorn ran for his Ada.


	6. Answers And Anger

**Hey all, so here's chapter six. After this only two more. Huge thanks to my wonderful reviewers: viggomaniac, Calenlass Greenleaf, and StarLight9. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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**Answers and Anger**

"What are we going to do, Ada?" asked Elrohir, fear for his friend evident in his voice and face. It was nearly an hour after Aragorn had brought Legolas back inside, and it had taken Elrond nearly that long to calm him down enough to take the sleeping herbs.

Aragorn and the twins now stood grouped in a tight knot around Elrond who sat tiredly in one of the large padded chairs in his study just down the hall from the sylvan elf's room.

"What I would like to know," said the healer leaning forward and pinning Aragorn with a stern look, while completely ignoring his middle son's question, "Is what exactly caused this particular panic attack."

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, not meeting the elven lord's eyes. "Well, we were out in the gardens when…."

Elladan nearly exploded. "You took him out into the gardens!"

He answered meekly: "Yes," then looking imploringly up at Elrond, "But he was _dying _being cooped up inside like that, you know him Ada, and he was fine until…" Aragorn trailed off again.

"Until what, ion-nin?" prodded Elrond carefully.

"Until he found this," the ranger slowly pulled forth the evil knife he had tucked into his belt, displaying it for all present.

Elladan and Elrohir's immediate reactions were to take an involuntary step back in compulsion at the sight of the dagger, while Elrond leaned forward and gingerly took it from his son's grasp.

The elven lord's long sensitive fingers traced the runic designs and cruel jagged edge, examining the weapon by both sight and touch. After barely a minute he placed the knife quickly and firmly on the desk, loathed to touch it any longer than necessary.

"It is too well crafted to be an orc blade," observed Elrohir slowly.

"Black with red markings," Aragorn muttered, having been far too preoccupied with keeping Legolas calm to think about it before.

"Just like Legolas described the reaver," finished Elladan gravely.

Elrond peered solemnly at Aragorn out from under his knitted eyebrows. "If you only took him into the gardens, then pray tell how did he find a reaver's knife?" the older elf asked thoughtfully.

His three sons eye's widened as the full impact of his words hit them so hard they all three took two steps backwards.

After several minutes Elrohir voiced the question that was on all of their minds, "In Rivendell?" but before any more could be said there was a timid knock at the door.

"Enter," called Elrond as the other three jumped with surprise and exchanged bewildered looks.

Slowly the door opened and a shy looking young elf poked his head in. Pushing the door back all the way he stepped a step into the room and bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched his knees.

Aragorn had seen him around before, wondering alone through the gardens and surrounding woods of Imladris. His name was Caliel and it was common knowledge that he preferred the company of trees and animals to that of any race of man or elf. Due to extreme shyness even when he sat in the Halls of Fire, Caliel rarely spoke, only listened.

"M-My Lord Elrond," he stuttered. When he bowed his shaggy dark brown hair fell forward shielding his face from sight, but when he straightened again it parted to reveal bright emerald eyes that shone with a vibrant well-spring of life that was well contained behind his evident shy nature.

"Caliel?" The elven lord masked his surprise well, though not his curiosity as to the business the young elf had with him, "Please sit, what troubles your mind?"

Caliel gingerly perched on the edge of the offered chair. "I-I wanted to inform you my Lord, about a… disturbing artifact I discovered uncomfortably close the Rivendell borders." Caliel's voice was even lighter and melodious than was normal, even for an elf. It was as though he was more accustomed to speaking in the light twill of a songbird than the tongues of men. Which, Aragorn reflected detachedly, if the rumors about him were true, he was.

"What _artifact_?" questioned Elladan tightly.

Elrond gave his eldest son a stern look, but said nothing, having detected the underlying worry and fear in Elladan's voice. Elrond knew how upset his sons were about what had happened in the past week or so. There _was_ a reaver on the loose and one of their dear friends was in unstable condition after all. So he let the harsh tone pass un-admonished, for the moment.

Caliel looked slightly intimidated but no longer stuttered when he answered. "It was a knife, black and evil," suddenly he jerked around as though just noticing something and peered closely at the blade Elrond had left sitting on the desk, "Like that one! Indeed that is the very same weapon I found!" He blushed slightly, "After I returned I noticed it was gone, it must have… slipped from my pack without my noticing," he finished blushing even harder.

"At least we now know an enemy did not infiltrate our borders," Elrond said in slow relief.

"But close to it," countered Elrohir pessimistically.

Aragorn ignored them. His mind was consumed by only one thought, Caliel knew where the reaver had been recently, from there he could find a trail to follow, he could make the foul being pay! "Where?" he asked, his voice coming out barely more than a croak, "Where was it, exactly?"

The intensity in the ranger's voice and eyes made Caliel draw back several inches, but he answered stoutly, "Just on the north-east border. There is a large old oak that was blown over many years ago, yet it continues to live and grow."

Aragorn nodded, he knew the place. How many times had his father or brothers taken him there to play as a child? Many nights he had lain in the low hanging branches with Legolas watching the stars, always resulting in one or both of them laughing so hard they lost their perch in the tree and fell the four or five foot drop to the ground. He felt the rage that already threatened to consume him bubble and rise even more, constricting his chest so that he could barely breathe.

Elladan stepped forward and put a comforting yet restraining hand on the man's shoulder, obviously having caught the warning signs before his younger brother exploded on them. "We will take care of it, Estel," he promised softly, "Go back to Legolas. We will handle this." Aragorn nodded slowly, forcing his muscles to relax. He knew what Elladan was trying to do; he knew that they would never let him go after it, they would tell him to stay with Legolas, that it was too dangerous, that he was still hurt. He would not be deterred, he would wait, leave when they were preoccupied. He would be long gone by the time they missed him. However for that to work he had to convince them that he was pacified, so that they would not know what he was planning.

Without another word he turned and left, going not into Legolas' room, but his own. Glancing around the room her ascertained that his boot, cloak and sword were neatly folded and waiting for him. Satisfied that he would be able to leave that night without problem, he softly opened the door joining his room to Legolas' and entered.

Without a sound Aragorn crossed the room and sat down next to the bed, thankful to see his friend still sleeping peacefully, though it pained him to see that the prince's eyes were closed.

Legolas lay on his back, hands folded neatly at his sides, his pale blonde hair fanned around his head, almost glowing compared to the even starker pale white of his face. Though his pallid color bothered Aragorn, the ranger was comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I will avenge you, mellon-nin," he promised in a hoarse whisper as he reached forward a shaking hand and clasped the elf's still pale one. His eyes had turned to steal-y chips of ice, even the bravest of beings would back down from the stare he gave the bed-sheets as he swore, "I _will_."


	7. Agony

**Hey all, sorry for the wait, finals and such, you know. But anyways, he's chapter seven, only one more after this! Huge thanks to RumorUnderOath, StarLight9, Calenlass Greenleaf, and viggomaniac for reviewing! Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

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**Agony**

He was falling, submerged in endless torrents of colors and sounds. Dimly he was aware of someone shaking his shoulders, calling his name, but he did not heed them, he_ could_ not. He could not see, could not breathe or control his own body. Try as he might to stem the overwhelming flow that tore through his mind, he was powerless. He tried to cry out for help, someone, anyone, please. No one came, no one could save him from what his mind presented to the inside of his eyelids.

Just when he began to think that he could tolerate the mental barrage it intensified, sending whole new waves of nausea through him. If he had thought it overwhelming before, it was now unbearable. He was falling…falling…drowning in dizzying swirls of light and sound.

_Drowning…drowning…drowning…_

"Legolas! Legolas!" Someone was yelling frantically somewhere above him.

"Help!" he cried back, hardly daring to hope.

"Legolas!" Each time the word struck it managed to pierce a little deeper. The waves of color began to dim; the noises began to fade, until the only thing he had to hold onto was the increasingly desperate voices above him.

Suddenly, in the absence of the swirls, they began to make sense and he sat bolt upright, nearly hitting Elrohir in the face.

"Legolas!" Elladan cried yet again, relieved to see his friend's eyes open.

"Strider!" Legolas shouted, wide eyes frantically searching the room, "Where is Strider?"

The twins' eyebrows shot up so high that they nearly disappeared in their dark drown hairlines as the two exchanged a surprised but not displeased look. In fact, were Legolas feeling himself he would have found the sight quite comical. However, as it was he came to the conclusion that Strider was not there and began to climb out of bed.

"Wait! What do you think you are doing?" exclaimed Elladan, jumping up and attempting to push the younger elf back down onto the bed, but the Mirkwood prince resisted.

"Strider!" he said over and over again, "I must find Strider."

The twins exchanged another glance; both fearing the Legolas did not truly know what he was talking about, but hoping that he did.

"Legolas," started Elrohir quietly, his tone making the prince pause his struggling for a moment, "Strider is not here."

"Well then, where is he?" Asked Legolas with a bit of over patience, and for a moment he seemed almost his old, mostly sane self again.

"We know not," sighed Elladan, "He left early this morning with no word."

"However," started Elrohir slowly with a cautious glance at his older brother, "We do have a guess…"

"Then let us go," declared Legolas, standing up again, "We will go and find him."

"This is not wise," said Elladan, shooting a glare at his twin, "You still need rest…" but worry for his mortal brother and recognition of Legolas' _need_ to speak with the man severally weakened his arguments.

"I _must _speak with Strider," insisted Legolas flatly and the next thing Elladan knew he was saddling their horses while Elrohir and the Mirkwood prince gathered the things they would need.

Aragorn groaned and slowly tried to lift his throbbing head. The room swirled and spun around him and with a sigh he let his head fall back weakly. He was tired, so tired. The long deep cuts that decorated his skin burned like fire and he could feel the sticky, warm blood oozing down his body to pool on the stone floor beneath him.

It had stopped though, something else had drawn the foul creature's attention, but not for long. Aragorn knew that, it would come back and things would get even worse.

Mentally he kicked himself. How could he have been so stupid? He had been so busy _looking_ for the thing that he had been too slow to defend himself when _it _found _him_. So now he was stuck, chained to a cave wall barely a days ride from his home. His family did not know where he was, they would guess certainly, but he had been unable to find the trail to the thing's lair himself, and he held no hope that they would be able to in time. Perhaps Legolas could have, he was the best tracker Aragorn knew, but Legolas was not well, far from it, and even if the elven prince tried, to encounter the Reaver again so soon, when the pain was still so fresh, Aragorn doubted his friend's mind would be able to take it.

The ranger would simply have to find his own way out. Only he was at a loss as to how, and at the moment he was too tired and in too much pain to seriously think about it. He was floating away as he began to loose consciousness. He fought half-heartedly, torn between longing for the empty peace that sleep would bring and the need to find a way out.

Just as he lost the battle for consciousness Aragorn was brought back to painful reality by a rough jerk on his shoulder. Slowly he opened his eyes to see what disturbed his rest, and closed them again with a groan, the Reaver was back.

It cut away what was left of his clothes, obviously not caring when the knife dipped a little deep, leaving yet another fresh gash all the way down the ranger's leg.

Suddenly Aragorn's eyes widened and despite himself he began to shake violently as he realized what would come next. He was unable to bite back a scream at the initial bolt of agony that shot through his entire body as the Reaver began its work.

This new pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He tried with all his might not to cry out again, he really did; he clenched his teeth and bit his lip so hard he bit clean through until the bitter tang of blood filled his mouth. But even that was better than the bile that rose in his throat at the thing's touch. It leaned in farther and the overwhelming stench of the monster's putrid breath made him gag. As he struggled against it, his already starved lungs rebelled and he was unable to draw a full breath through the agonizing pain that ripped through his very marrow. He longed for it to stop, but it only grew. Intensifying until his head spun. He no longer had any sense of reality, he was not bound and fettered in a cave, instead he was floating weightless in an enveloping epiphany of agony.

Then suddenly it did stop. The Reaver withdrew and the burning fire was replaced by a dull ache that was slightly more bearable.

Aragorn did not know why it stopped, and he really did not care, he simply hung limply in his bonds, welcoming the reprieve and fighting for breath.

Slowly he attempted to open his eyes but see the floor swirl and spin below made him feel nauseous again so he forced himself to relax and rest while he had the chance.

Just how long he remained there, hanging in a delicate limbo between waking and unconsciousness, Aragorn never knew. However it felt nowhere near long enough when the Reaver returned for round two.

"No, please," he begged, despite the small voice in the back of his mind ordering him not to give in, "P-please…don't…" but the vile beast only leered at him as it drew closer and closer.

"No…" Aragorn whimpered, pressing himself as far back as possible against the wall, his entire clouded mind only able to focus on escaping, on not letting it happen again. But he could not go far enough, he could not press himself through the wall and be freed, there was no escaping, no way out…. No way out…

He waited, waited, every fiber tensed against the pain that he knew was coming, that could not be avoided. But it did not come. Minutes passed, each one bringing fresh waves of terror ripping through his body in anticipation of the next.

Finally, Aragorn steeled himself enough to open his eyes. At first he could not comprehend the vision placed before him. There the Reaver was, directly in front of him, poised to start the horror all over again, but something was wrong, or right as it were. The monster looked stiff, it's eyes filmed over and a steady stream of blood trickled from the corner of its mouth.

Stunned Aragorn watched as the creature slowly fell sideways and steel flashed before his steadily dimming vision.

_Voices…somewhere…above him…speaking… calling him…heavy…he felt so heavy…_Somehow he felt that his weight was no longer supported by the chains. Was that stone he felt under his bare, agonized back? Gentle hands lifting his head? The voices were growing in volume, piercing the fog that attempted to drown him.

"Strider!"

"Aragorn!"

"I think he is unconscious."

"No, he is waking, look."

"Strider!"

Someone was whimpering, pleading, "No, no please," that someone begged.

"Ea na gwiil," _//Be at peace// _a calming voice whispered through the mist. It sounded so familiar, so soft, so gentle, he longed for it, holding tightly to the sound, using it as a rope to keep him from falling into the bottomless black abyss that threatened to engulf him. Dimly through the pain he could feel the warm, strong arms that encircled him, rocking him gently and whispering comforting words in his ear.

The combination of all this gave Aragorn enough strength to open his eyes.

"Leg…o…las?" he gasped as the face above him swam into view.

Legolas smiled, "Yes, mellon-nin, I am here."

"Mellon…nin?" he repeated thickly, hardly daring to hope that the words meant what he though they meant.

"Aye," Legolas smiled at him again, though Aragorn felt something wet splash onto his face. "I remember now, Estel, I remember everything. I am so sorry, my friend."

"No," Aragorn argued, starting to shake his head but stopping quickly as a fresh volley of nausea swept over him, "You have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one to be sorry."

"No-" the elf started, but Aragorn cut him off.

"It is my fault…I-I…" no, he felt his consciousness slipping again. He was sliding back, Legolas' face growing dimmer. He fought to get out one last word before everything went black, "Leg…o…"

Elladan and Elrohir, who had been patiently standing by all the while keeping a careful watch over the two, but respecting Legolas' obvious need to be with the mortal now stepped forward. Gently Elladan lifted Aragorn's limp form from the young prince's arm as Elrohir helped Legolas to his feet.

"Come," said Elladan gravely, "Let us take him home to Ada."


	8. Don't Forget To Remember Me

**Oh my god, so here it is, the last chapter! (Sniffle). So, someone once suggested to me that I write a sequel. So I thought about it, and I'm still thinking about it. But, what I would like to know, is would it be worth it for me to write it? So, in all those lovely reviews I know you guys are gonna leave me (wink wink) Tell me if you want a sequel. Also, given that I've now jumped into that ship, should it be slash? Not necessarily Leggy/Aragorn. Any and all suggestions you have, since I don't really have anything planned at all yet, and let me know if you want it period. Alrighty, huge thanks to my lovely reviewers: viggomaniac, StarLight9, and Calenlass Greenleaf. Read, Review, Give me sequel suggestions, and Enjoy! **

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**Don't Forget to Remember Me**

Aragorn regained consciousness slowly. The first thing he noticed was the soft pillow beneath his head and the warm blanket pulled up to his chest. Then he became aware of someone placing a cool cloth on his forehead. The hand that held the cloth at first was gentle and kind, but then it seemed to transform, to curve into cruel claws and grow slimy and slick with blood.

"NO!" he cried, sitting up suddenly and desperately battling away the hand.

"Aragorn! I am sorry," Legolas said softly, quickly withdrawing his hand as though it had been burned.

"No, Legolas," insisted Aragorn as soon as his mind caught up.

"I-I know what it is like," continued Legolas as he carefully studied his hands, "I should have known better… I did not mean to…"

"I know," said the ranger quietly, "How long has it been?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Four days," answered Legolas, accepting the new topic, "How do you feel?"

Aragorn did not answer right away; he instead leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed. He was so still that for a moment Legolas thought he had fallen back asleep, but then he answered. "I am well," he lied, his voice was soft and distant as he opened his eyes again and turned them blankly to the open window, clearly not at all taking in the beautiful view.

"No, you are not," corrected his friend just as quietly, his doleful, liquid sapphire eyes turning even more sad as they swept over the ranger's many bandages, and threatening to spill over when they reached Aragorn's bruised, scratch, and marred face, profiled by the setting sun outside of the window.

Aragorn did not answer, he was too wrapped up in thought, unable to stop himself from dwelling on the subject Legolas had so willingly dropped.

"Estel, mellon-nin," Legolas tried.

"E-every time I see someone smile," the ranger choked, never taking his gaze from the bright flowering plants outside the window, "I think of the way it leered at me. Every time I-I close my eyes I find myself back in that cave. Every-every time someone touches me…I f-feel not their hand, b-but…"

"Its," finished Legolas softly, nodding as he moved to sit closer to his distraught friend, "I know. But I have dealt with it, made my peace. I just-I just do not want you to have to go through it the same way I did."

Aragorn finally tore his eyes from the window to look at his elven friend. Taking in the slight shaking of the prince's hands, the way his eyes seemed too large and over bright, the mortal knew, thought Legolas tried to hide it, that he was not so peaceful as he said.

"Legolas, I-," he started.

"Just please," Legolas whispered, looking desperately into Aragorn silver gaze, "Please, do not forget me; do not leave me. Please?"

It took a moment but there, Aragorn was able to define the look in the elf's eyes, it was fear. Legolas still needed him, he realized, just as much as he needed the prince.

"I-I am not as strong as you," Legolas continued, though there really was no need, "I could not bare it if you did not know who I was. Please, Aragorn, Please do not leave me! I need you."

Aragorn slowly leaned forward and put his arms gently around his frightened friend, as much for his own comfort as the elf's. "I am not going anywhere, Legolas," he promised, "I will _never _forget you, never."

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It took nearly two months, but Aragorn and Legolas did eventually return to normal. Perhaps they were healed, or perhaps they only made their peace with it. However, either way, the first snow of winter found them in one of the many Rivendell gardens having a snowball fight with the twins. Their joyful laughter rang throughout the halls of that noble place, filling it from floor to lofty ceiling.

All who heard it would smile to themselves and mutter, "They are at it again."

Lord Elrond himself stood on one of the balconies, watching the younglings frolic. He was glad that they had moved on after their latest trial. But heavy trepidation was weighting on his heart, for he knew they would face many more difficulties, perhaps worse, perhaps less so.

He shook his head forcefully to clear it of such gloomy thoughts and allowed himself a small laugh spurred by the look of indignation that crossed Legolas' face as all three of the others took sides against him, bombarding the poor prince on all sides.

"One day," Elrond mussed aloud, "They will meet a new enemy, but they will persevere, they are survivors." And with that the great elven lord retired into his house, leaving the young ones to play.


End file.
